


Nothing Incredible

by elderprices



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5063062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elderprices/pseuds/elderprices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elder Price pity party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Incredible

_Things will be better tomorrow. Take it one day at a time. Tomorrow is a latter day._  
Sometimes, it was easy for Elder Price to focus on the positive.  
_I can’t do something incredible here._  
Today was not one of those days.

 

He sat pathetically alone on the dirt stoop of the mission hut, forced to listen as the party went on and on inside. A crude stonehenge of empty coffee cups littered the ground before him—sixteen was his new record. He had topped off a spiteful seventeenth with a grimace only seconds ago, but could already feel his buzz beginning to wear off. He needed an Advil. Or a sedative. Or a knife plunged forcefully into his stomach. Any would do, so long as it got rid of the pain. The throbbing pain of the caffeine overdose, and the numbing pain in the pit of his stomach.

Elder Price felt pretentious, using the term “depression” with such a dismissive turn of the head. Depression, after all, didn’t affect privileged white boys. Depression affected people who were underpaid, and discriminated against, and had no family or friends to turn to. There was no logical reason for Kevin Price, nineteen-year-old scholar and latter-day saint, to feel depressed. But there he sat nonetheless, wanting nothing more than to stumble blindly down to the river and drown himself in the same water people were reborn in every day.

And why? Because he was jealous of his _mission companion_? The dorky Arnold Cunningham, who paraded through Kitguli flaunting his ridiculous excuse for a religious text? Arnold Cunningham, the most caring and genuine friend Elder Price was ever blessed with? The next Mormon prophet, beloved by all of Uganda, changing people’s lives, doing something incredible…

Kevin gave himself a hard punch in the shoulder. And then regretted it a moment later when the stinging swelled through. He couldn’t even take a hit like a man. How did he ever expect to stay under water long enough to finish the deed when a weak little punch made his eyes well up with tears? Maybe there was an easier way. Surely the General-turned-Elder still had some weapons and ammunition lying around. Just collecting dust somewhere. He wondered if he could slip away from the party without anyone noticing—a nearly impossible feat, considering how closely the district leader watched over Kevin when he went on his coffee binges.

Elder Price suddenly felt sick. He remembered Connor. Connor, to whom he vowed never to self-harm after the redhead stayed up all night sobbing over the scars he kept on the insides of his arms. He sat shaking and sputtering for hours over his depression, scared senseless of his own capabilities. What would his _parents_ say? What would the _church_ say? Could he even return to the church, after everything he had come to realize about himself? Would he belong to something after their mission was over?

Elder McKinley had a reason to be depressed. As far as he knew, however, Elder Price was just being an ungrateful jerk.

He hugged his legs close to his chest, and buried his already tear-drenched face into his knees. His shoulders shuddered as he sobbed like the pathetic child he was. He didn’t deserve people who cared about him, and at the same time all he wanted was a shoulder to cry on. He wanted to lay out at night and hope that the safari ants swarmed him, but wanted nothing more than for someone to save him. His head was a throbbing mess of conflict and quarrel and the caffeine had him yearning for just a tall glass of water to help ease the pain.

“Hey, buddy.” A hand—a warm, welcoming, squeezing hand—rested on Kevin’s shoulder. He knew that familiar touch all too well. Reluctantly, he inched over on the stoop to make room for his mission companion. Elder Price refused to pick his head up from his lap. The last thing he wanted was for his best friend to see him like this. Snivelling and weak and pathetic. Elder Cunningham kicked at the coffee cup sculpture with his toe.

“How many did you drink tonight?” He tried a laugh.

“Seventeen.”

“Oh.” He scratched his curly head of hair uncomfortably. “You should probably… stop drinking so much.” Kevin took in a sudden sharp breath, trembling as he suppressed a sob. His mission companion leaned forward and furrowed his eyebrows.

“H-hey. You okay, Elder Price?” He gripped either of the missionary’s shoulders to better see his face. Kevin winced when his thumb dug into the self-inflicted bruise that now swelled down his arm. More tears made their way down his reddened cheeks. “Are you okay?” He tried again. Elder Price couldn’t force the words out of his tightened throat. He just barely managed a shake of his head before burying himself into Arnold’s arms. The missionary was barely fazed by the unusual contact—his hands offered a ginger pat on Kevin’s back, in case there were other bruises he might not know about. They sat on the dirt stoop for a good half hour, Elder Cunningham letting his companion sob uncontrollably into his white shirt as he sat in silence and only nodded occasionally as a form of understanding. Then Kevin’s heaving breaths subsided to hiccups and he rubbed his nose on Arnold’s sleeve and wrapped his arms around the boy’s soft body.

“I just feel like no one cares. I don’t even think _I_ care anymore."

“I care.” He gave Elder Price a squeeze. “I care a whole _lot_ , buddy.”

Kevin was quiet. Then he nodded and simply said, “I know.”

And then added afterwards, “Thank you.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

“I know.” Again, “Thank you” after a pause.

“Because you deserve to be happy, Elder.”

“I love you, pal.”

“I love you, too, buddy. And guess what.”

“What?”

Arnold pulled away, so he could properly smile at his missionary.

“You’re something incredible.”


End file.
